Eleven
by WuHaoNi
Summary: In which the Doctor is really a madman with a box. AU


**Disclaimer: **Doctor Who is the property of Steven Moffat.

**Summary: **_In which Amy's best friend is really a madman with a box. A look at when the lines between genius and madness blur. AU_

**A/N: **This idea has always captivated me.

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><p><strong>I.<strong> _'Hello. I'm the Doctor.'_

Leadworth is a boring, sleepy little village nestled in an area in which nothing of importance ever happens.

Until, of course, John (Call Me The Doctor) Smith comes in his beaten up blue car, looking for something like a friend.

He finds one in Amy Pond—beautiful, mad, impossible Amy Pond—the most unlikely companion for a most unlikely man.

Rory doesn't like Amy's new flatmate. One, he's male, and all right, better looking than Rory is. Not that Rory is jealous, of course, it's just…Amy is flighty, and all right, yes, he's jealous.

But there's no denying the Doctor is as mad as a hatter.

Amy thinks he's fun and brilliant, whilst Rory can't help reminding her that the man isn't a suitable candidate for a flatmate. She's too nice and trusting, and it's up to Rory to watch out for her. To _protect_ her.

But now he has to share his girlfriend with a bloke who thinks he's a time traveling alien.

**II.** _'__I like the bit when someone says "It's bigger on the inside!" I always look forward to that.__'_

'This is my TARDIS. Stands for Time and Relative—'

'It's a car.'

'_Rory._'

'It's bigger on the inside, see?'

'It's a _car_.'

'Rory. A word?'

Amy leads him over to the side. The Doctor peers after them interestedly. He's very aware they're talking about him.

'I'm not going to pretend it's a bloody spaceship, Amy.'

'Well, you're not helping him by telling him it's a car. If he wants to believe it's a spaceship, then let him. He's not hurting anyone.'

'Fine. But if he tries to fly it or some other ridiculous nonsense, I'm leaving.'

'Not just a space ship!' the Doctor calls. His arms are folded over his chest and there is a far too perceptive look on his face. 'Travels in time, too!'

Rory gives Amy a Look.

**III.** '_Hey, look at this. I got my spaceship, I got my boys... my work here is done._'

The Doctor and Amy are exploring 'Venice', while Rory sits on the floor inside Tesco's and pretends that the nutters running up and down the aisles don't belong to him.

He gets up briefly to peruse their selection of squash, only to find the Doctor and Amy jumping up and down near the bottles of milk.

'Aliens!'

'Vampires!'

He rolls his eyes and goes to find some chutney.

It's not until later that Amy and the Doctor run past him from the direction of the seafood area, pursued by a pale woman in a manager's uniform, shouting at them to come back with that sole fillet.

A heavy seat black man watches amusedly as he and his daughter do their shopping.

Rory gives him a tense smile. 'I don't know what they're on about.'

'Alien vampires, apparently,' the man says.

**IV.** _'__If you had any more tawdry quirks, you could open up a tawdry quirk shop.' _

Then there was that Unmentionable Incident Of That Time They All Got High And Wandered To the Senior Citizens Home And Fell Into A Snowbank.

'_Funny how you can say something in your head and it __sounds __fine.'_

And That Time the Doctor Jumped Out of the Stripper Cake Whilst Looking For Rory.

Yes.

That really happened.

And everything was fun and wonderful until reality came.

Amy had half expected this Doctor business to be a bit of a lark, something different from her own mediocre life, but it turns out to be painful in ways she hadn't expected. She had long ago stopped playing with dolls and dress up, but it was only now that she realized how much of a child she still was. Being the Doctor's companion wasn't like playing dress up, pretend, or even like being an actress.

She had become part of a very ill man's particular set of delusions and whilst it was fun running around Tesco's like a maniac, it wasn't very fair to the Doctor or adult of her. She wasn't helping either of them by escaping her duties as an adult. It was time to be responsible and find someone close to the Doctor who could make sure he got some proper help.

The only problem was that she couldn't possibly imagine who that person would be.

**V.** '_Now all I've got to do is pass as an ordinary human being. Simple. What could possibly go wrong?'_

They don't know much about the Doctor other than that he's a madman with a car.

Amy assumes he was educated publicly because of his posh accent and manner of dressing. He also never goes to work and she and Rory agree that a private fund would keep him well to do without worrying about money.

He's always secretive, keeping his door shut and locked.

They respect his privacy until the day after Amy's revelation, when she starts her quest to find out more about the Doctor's past. The problem is: while he's a talker, it's usually never about the things she wants him to talk about.

'_Amy! Come look at this!'_

'_Amy! I need you to hold this coil for me!'_

'_Amy! Why is there a tie hanging on your bedroom door?'_

And on and on it goes.

They have breakfast—muffins for Amy and tea for the Doctor—and she begins her quest of opening up the Doctor.

'Doctor?'

'Hmmm.'

'Why do they call you the Doctor?'

'Lots of people call me the Doctor. I call me the Doctor.'

'I mean, what's the reason behind it?'

'That's what my people name themselves.'

' Your people?'

'Time Lords. Surely, Amy, we've discussed this. We came first, then you humans.'

Amy squishes a blueberry on her plate. It's difficult to ask him this. 'So there's other Time Lords, yeah?'

The Doctor's green eyes go flinty and she recognizes the signs that he's closing himself off.

'No. There were, but there aren't…just me now. Long story. It was a bad day, lots of bad stuff happened. And you know what? I'd love to forget it all, _every last bit of it,_ but I don't. Not ever.'

There is a long pause in which the Doctor considers her, and she doesn't meet his eyes.

'Why are you asking all of these questions, Amy?'

'Just curious. You're so _mysterious,_ Doctor.' She gives him a salacious grin, but he's not having any of it.

'Maybe you're just easier to read,' he says, getting defensive.

'Oi, I do believe you've just insulted me.'

'Well, you're a human, of course you're easy to read.'

'Doctor,' Amy begins, bringing plates to the kitchen sink to do the washing up. 'John Smith is your…human name, isn't it?'

'Yes.' The Doctor draws out the syllable slowly, like he's mediating on the question.

'Did other Time Lords go by human names or was it just you?'

'Right,' the Doctor says crisply. 'I think that's enough questions, Pond.'

He stands up from the table and stalks out of the room.

**VI.** '_Have you ever run away from something because you were scared, or not ready, or just... just because you could?'_

He's fine that evening, making noisy conversation like he usually does, but Amy can tell something is bothering him. She wonders if now will be time for the reveal but he merely mutters something about suspension filters and wanders out of the room. He's not anywhere in the flat when she checks the next morning.

Amy makes the split second decision to look at his room.

It's both an engineer's playground and a machine cemetery. Bits and bobs of toasters and blenders—wait, was that a sewing machine?—are scattered around the floor. Blue prints and schematics are stacked on the desk alongside multiple books.

He's fond of a wide variety of subjects, including Harry Potter, Agatha Christie, Shakespeare and oddly enough, there's a biography on Madame du Pompadour.

But what most interests Amy are the stacks of pictures. The Doctor is in most of them, usually next to a different pretty young woman. He always dresses slightly different.

In some, he favours spiky hair and black glasses and in others, a leather jacket. She wonders briefly at his unusual clothing phase and then happens upon a picture that makes her smile.

_Harry Saxon and Johnny_, a woman's handwriting reports on the back. Taken by the Doctor's mother? Amy wonders.

Harry is a slim built young man with feathery blonde hair, and has his arm around the Doctor's shoulders. But in another, Harry and the Doctor are caught mid-wrestle. The pictures with Harry and the Doctor seem to alternate between brotherly companionship and outright hatred. Amy laughs out loud at one picture of the Doctor scowling into the camera while Harry grins.

She is so engrossed that she doesn't notice until too late that the Doctor is standing in the doorway.

Quietly, 'What are you doing, Amelia?'

'I was just—'

'OUT!' He yells, suddenly properly frightening, almost shaking with anger.

Amy flees, dropping the pictures so quickly that they all spill onto the ground.

She doesn't stop running until she's at Rory's flat with his arm around her.

**VII.** '_What if you were really old, and really kind and alone? Your whole race dead, no future. What couldn't you do then?'_

'I've never seen him so angry,' she says a bit wetly.

Tears threaten to snuffle down her face.

'You probably shouldn't have gone in there.'

'I just wanted to help.'

'Amy, you can't help everyone.'

'He's just one man. How hard could it be?'

Amy leans into Rory's embrace and his arms tighten protectively around her body.

'I'll come over tomorrow morning, ask him to move out,' Rory murmurs into her ear.

She stiffens. 'What? No!'

'Amy, if he's going to get violent, I'd rather be there to—'

'He didn't do anything to me! I was the one who invaded his privacy anyway. He has a right to get angry.'

'Yeah, but you don't know what kind of things a bloke like him is capable of. I worry about you. Alone in that house with him…'

'He isn't an axe murderer.'

'Amy, love, you don't really know him at all.'

'I know he's alone and kind,' Amy says staunchly. 'And that's good enough for me.'

**VIII.**_ IN WHICH AMY POND MEETS HAROLD SAXON_

Harry, the Doctor's boyhood friend, is an erstwhile up and coming politician. His handshake is too firm and his smile is a bit too wide, but he had readily agreed to meet Amy, so she doesn't complain.

His fingers tap out a rhythm on the desk as he looks at her. There is something just a bit cruel in his smirk, and she's reminded at how often the Doctor and Harry appeared to fight in those childhood pictures.

'What can I do for you, Miss Pond?' The ice cubes in his scotch clink together as he sets a drink down in front of himself. He doesn't offer one to Amy.

'It's about John Smith. The man who calls himself "The Doctor".'

Harry chokes a bit on his drink. 'Johnny? Really? Haven't heard that name in years. What's he up to?'

'I was hoping you could tell me a bit about him.'

'Like what?'

'Anything about his past, really.'

'Long story.' Harry looks at her with pale, exacting eyes. 'Why isn't Johnny telling you this himself?'

There is something tight inside Amy that warns her to be careful with this one.

'He's…not well,' she decides to say, and leave it at that.

Harry's smirk blossoms into a full blown grin, and she's taken aback at the completely inappropriate response to the situation.

'You mean to say he's finally gone mad at last?'

Amy shoots him a dirty look. 'I can see this will be a waste of time. Thank you anyway, Mr. Saxon.'

She gets up from her chair and makes for the doorway. But Harry is quicker.

'Forgive me, Miss Pond. I've been told that I have a peculiar sense of humour. I'd be delighted to inform you about mine and Johnny's misdeeds while we were schoolboys at Eton.'

Lulled by the promise of information, Amy allows herself to be led back into her seat.

'When we were younger, more carefree, we designed alter egos for ourselves. He was the "Doctor". I was the "Master".'

Amy snorts. 'The Master?'

Harry's indulgent smile goes frigid. 'Is there something funny about the name?'

'No, sorry…I was just…'Amy hastens to apologise, but Harry goes on regardless.

'It was child's play, rather like Cops and Robbers. Only I left it behind on the playing fields, and Johnny apparently, did not.' Harry ceases the tapping noise and folds his hands together over his chest. 'You have to understand, Miss Pond, that Johnny has always been the smartest man in the room. He was outcast for it during primary school, boys ridiculed him at Eton, and as I remember, uni was no better.'

'But he never talked about being a time travelling alien, did he?'

Harry raises an eyebrow. 'Johnny's always done things with style. It seems being mad is no exception.'

'I'll take that as a "no".' Amy rises from her seat. 'I've got to be going.'

'Might I ask you why _you're_ the one to ask the questions?' Harry drawls from behind his desk.

'Well, who else would—'

'His wife.'

Amy stops in her tracks for the second time that day.

'_His wife?'_

**IX.** '_Hello, sweetie.'_

'Who's River?' Amy asks one day.

Things are back to normal between the two of them, or as normal as they can get. But Amy fears she has broken the delicate equilibrium with this very important question.

The Doctor freezes for one long moment. 'Have you been in my room again? I told you not to go into my room. It's private. I keep private things there.'

'Sorry,' Amy says, because she feels like she should.

The Doctor never does tell Amy who River is.

They speak no more on the subject and Amy nearly forgets about the conversation.

Until she turns up one day at their door.

'Is John here?' she asks with a brilliant smile. 'I've come to collect my husband.'

'Your husband?' Amy says slowly. She tosses her hair back and decides to test the woman. 'He never mentioned being married.'

'He's not likely to.' The woman sighs and leans in closer, checking from side to side for any sign of the Doctor. 'I'm Doctor River Song, his psychiatrist. But the poor man's gotten it in his head that we're married.'

Amy nods. This sounds like something the Doctor would do.

They sit in the kitchen with tea, and River explains in painstaking detail about the Doctor's true history while Rory hovers in the sitting room, pretending not to listen.

'John's always lived on the kindness of strangers. He has a rather magnetic personality, don't you think?'

'Eccentric, I'd wager,' Amy throws in, and River smiles at her.

'That too.'

'What's his diagnosis, then?' Amy asks quietly. 'Schizo? Psychotic?'

'Is he dangerous?' Rory asks, coming to stand behind Amy's chair. His hands come up to her shoulders in a comforting manner.

'Oh, heavens no,' River laughs. 'He's harmless.'

'Told you!' Amy says triumphantly.

'John lives in what we would call a constant state of delusion.'

Rory snorts. 'Time travelling alien. Yeah, I'd say that's delusional.'

'What's more important here is to understand the root behind the delusion. It's a coping mechanism,' River explains. 'John lost his entire family in the 2005 bombings when they were on holiday. If he tells himself that there are certain rules for time travelling, that absolves him from any responsibility for his family's death.'

'It's tragic,' Rory says slowly. 'But many people lose their families and don't go completely mad.'

River raises an eyebrow. 'Or maybe they just do it in a more socially acceptable way.'

**X.** _'Is this how time normally passes? Really slowly?'_

The medicine that River prescribes the Doctor makes him irritable and snappish. He complains about the dullness of the day, of the boredom, of how _human_ everything is. At night, he has become particularly prone to bouts of frequent insomnia. She can overhear him pacing the flat at odd hours of the night.

She supposes real life would be dull if you were used to living in your own fantasy world.

They make a day trip to London and spend most of their time in the art galleries. An exhibit on Vincent van Gogh captivates Amy's attention and she drags the Doctor to stand in front of her favourite painting, _Sunflowers._ The Doctor is far more preoccupied with the painting hanging next to it: _The Church at Auvers_.

He peers closely at it, and points to one of the ground floor windows.

'What does that look like to you?' the Doctor says.

Amy ignores him. 'D'you know, I love van Gogh. He was a ginger, too.'

'Can you imagine the children you'd have?' the Doctor says, lifting a piece of her scarlet hair. He's easily distracted, seizing upon this new idea and throwing away the mysterious black window smudge. 'They'd be the ultimate ginge. We should meet him!'

Amy smiles back at him indulgently, and links her arm with his as they stroll arm and arm down the row of paintings.

The Doctor talks in great detail about 19th century France, and she doesn't tell him that it's not real. That he can't time travel, and he's only human like the rest of them. She never knew John Smith, and maybe that's a shame and maybe it's better this way. John Smith might have been brilliant, but he can't compete with Amy's Doctor.

XI. _'__Amy Pond, there's something you better understand about me, 'cause it's important and one day your life may depend on it. … I am__definitely__a madman with a box.__.'_

Amy has always loved fairytales. And when she has children of her own, she knows exactly which fairytale to tell them.

Once upon a time, there was a man.

This man was brilliant, so brilliant that he had a doctorate in Physics. This man fell in love with a beautiful young woman, and they had beautiful children together. The man was so happy.

And then everything was taken away from him. The Underground destroyed by a terrorist attack. His whole family gone in one single blow.

Men have been broken by much less. He tried to run away from his pain, but his demons were faster. They consumed the man, until he was driven mad.

To cushion his mind, he built instead a rich delusion in which he as a hero could save worlds. He became a Healer, and a Warrior for those who could not fight for themselves.

He became the Doctor.


End file.
